Bathroom Confessionals

"Cheers!" The after-work happy hour crowd meets every Tuesday and Thursday. Nora sits back, taking in each of her coworkers, shouting over each other with smiles on their faces, beer sloshing everywhere, ordering endless appetizers for the six of them to share.

To some, this was the greatest place to work just because of the biweekly meet-ups. The only thing Nora pondered was this: is this all that there is?

These Tuesday and Thursday "wash-downs" used to be something she looked forward to, but lately the revolving door of coworkers keeps spinning younger and younger. She often feels like she doesn't fit in.

One of her younger coworkers bounces, whom she refers to as Tigger; she always has a bounce in her step, over with a pint of beer and a shot glass of something clear, "Here! It's a Corona Bomb."

A what?

Tigger must notice Nora's confusion and snickers, "You're older than the pyramids, just drop the shot into the beer and drink!" Subtle dig at the obvious age difference, but Nora smiles and takes the two glasses and sets them on the table.

"What are each of these?" Nora points to two drinks

"Corona… hence Corona Bomb and Tequila. Try it!"

Tigger's cheerful tone bounces as frequently as her steps do. Nora does as instructed and takes a sip.

"No, you're supposed to drink it all." The young coworker informs her.

Let's get this over with. Nora reluctantly brings the glass back to her mouth and finishes the drink. She covers her mouth with her other hand, eyes rolling as she tames the need to throw up. Fitting in isn't worth this pain.

Being the coworker that is older than the pyramids. Nora felt it necessary to order her younger coworkers a round of beer before heading home for the night. She had had enough of these twenty-somethings and would much rather lie on the couch with Dusty than endure another minute at this bar.

After a short drive of mostly back roads, Nora pulled into her driveway, and peering out behind the blinds was Dusty. Dusty was her cat, a black American shorthair. She rescued him a few years ago, driving home from work. She named him Dusty because he was her feline duster. Not on purpose; just any area he squeezed himself into, he always came out with the reminder that she doesn't clean as thoroughly as she should. The most common place he enjoyed to squeeze into was behind the blinds.

Walking through the front door, Dusty runs up to rub against Nora in greeting. Or to wipe the dust off his fur. She offers him a few pets before heading for the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine.

No more Corona Bombs.

Resting in her living room, Nora turns on the TV for some background noise as she absent-mindedly scrolls through her favorite social media platforms. Learning about hacks for different chores around the house was her favorite genre. Happy that tomorrow's Friday, she only has to endure one more day before her two days off. Plus, the following week she had vacation time approved. She's been looking forward to this time since the start of January.

***

Her daily morning routine was always the same; Nora was feeling like her work weeks were repeating themselves like Groundhog Day.

Next week, I am going to start looking for a new job.

She wanted to break away from the comforts of her current job. She got her degree in graphic design to end up at a law firm as a secretary, a job that was supposed to hold her over until she found something more in line with her degree. 10 years later, she's still putting together schedules, taking meeting notes, and picking up coffee and food orders for the office. Nora just placed this morning's coffee order before heading toward the kitchen to grab a granola bar and the lunch she made from her fridge. She gives Dusty a few back scratches before grabbing her keys to head to the coffee shop and pick up the orders.

She would have been on time if it weren't for the 'wide load' carrier with its four ways on driving 10 miles per hour. She raced through the parking lot to find a decent spot and scanned her key card before dashing everyone's coffee orders to their desks. Finally, she plopped down at her own desk, looking over everyone's schedule for today and cross-referencing any changes that may have been sent to her email.

Once her morning tasks were finished, Nora headed to the bathroom. There were three open stalls when she arrived, a nice little reprieve from the chaos outside these walls. She took her time sitting on the toilet, in no rush to get back to her desk.

The bathroom door swings open and two pairs of heels clack their way into her sanctuary. Their echoes reverberated their way around, as muffled voices were barely audible over the menacing footwear.

Once the background noise settled, the two women's conversation became much clearer.

"You swear not to say anything to anyone?" young voice number one pleaded.

Nora didn't hear a confirmation or denial of her request, but young voice number two suggested checking to make sure they were the only ones in the room. This prompted Nora to lift her feet and hide her identity, wanting to hear the gossip. Once the two women deemed the bathroom safe, young voice number one continued. "I think something happened that night between Louie and me." Her voice was meek and worried. There are two Louies at this firm. One is a paralegal, the other is a Senior Associate. The Senior Associate is also married.

Which Louie and what night?

Almost reading Nora's mind, young voice number two requested the same information. "Wait, which one? Paralegal Lou or Senior Associate Louis? And secondly, the night we all had to pull an all-nighter?" Nora was amused that they differentiated the two by making one name sound more sophisticated while the other more childlike.

Young voice number one, who's starting to sound like Tigger, squeaked out her admission. "Louis, and yes."

What possibly could have happened between Married Louie and Tigger? And when did they pull an all-nighter?

Since she started working at her current law firm, she was never once asked to work overtime or even heard whispers of staff working overtime.

Once again, sharing the same brain waves, voice number two pushes for more information, "What do you mean 'something happened'? We were all together that night. I don't think anyone left the conference room."

"Remember Larry had asked me to go to the back closet with all the old records and grab the files for Jensen?" Nora thought back to when Larry, a firm partner, had a meeting with one of his oldest clients, Jensen Peters, who is also Larry's childhood friend and the brother of Senior Associate' Louis,' as the youngsters call him.

That was almost a month ago; he needed Larry to read through some documents. Larry was being weird about the topic of the documents.

"Well, Louis slipped out of the conference and came up behind me in the records closet." Tigger audibly gulped before she floored Nora and young voice number two with her confession, "I'm pregnant."